Her Dying Breath (12 page)

“My father.”

“I was going to say ‘the experiment.’”

“You don’t have to tiptoe around his name or what he did,” Nick said. “I won’t defend him.”

Which indicated the depth of his pain. “That’s sad in itself,” Brenda said softly.

“Just don’t hurt Sadie or Amelia,” he warned. “They don’t deserve it.”

“Finally something we agree on.”

A heartbeat passed between them, and Brenda thought he was going to say something else, that he might be softening toward her, but one of the crime techs walked in from the bedroom, and his hard look returned.

“We’re about finished in there,” the tech said.

“What did you find?” Nick asked.

“Several fingerprints, some bodily fluids on the sheets, a little blood in the bathroom. Maybe a shaving mishap.”

“You took samples?” Nick asked.

“Yes, of everything.”

“We’re photographing the contents of the closet and bathroom now.”

“I want to look around when you’re finished,” Nick said.

The tech nodded, stowed the evidence bags he’d collected in the collection kit, then disappeared back into the den.

Brenda inched inside the room, visually scanning it for details, careful not to touch anything. The furniture looked as if it had come with the apartment. A plain beige couch and chair, a scarred wooden coffee table, a dinette set that looked as if it was fifty years old.

Three cardboard boxes sat in the corner of the living room, suggesting that the man hadn’t yet unpacked everything. No personal photos except for one lone eight-by-ten of a little baby girl wrapped in a pink blanket, hugging a stuffed bunny. Nothing stood out as suspicious.

Another crime tech was processing the kitchen. From where she stood, it looked as if Jim Logger rarely used it.

“What did you find out about Logger?”

Nick knelt to examine the CDs stacked by the television. “He was married, has a child, divorced now. His widow said they had problems when he returned stateside. He was moody, started drinking too much. Worked for a security firm for a while. But he was really hitting the booze by then, and left or was fired, she’s not sure which. After that, he worked as a truck driver.”

“Something to look into,” Brenda said.

Nick gave a clipped nod, and Brenda walked over and glanced at the CDs. Some military flicks, a thriller, a sci-fi flick. Dozens of porn movies.

“Interesting,” she said, noting the titles involved S & M, rape, and submission.

“Fits with the way we found him.” He stuck the CDs back on the shelf, then strode toward the desk in the corner. An older-model laptop sat on the top, and Nick began to examine it. Brenda followed him and leaned over his shoulder, watching as he scrolled through Logger’s browser history.

“More porn sites,” she said in disgust. “Did his wife say he cheated on her?”

“She said he saw women and liked rough sex.”

“You think he met someone online?”

Nick checked the man’s e-mail. “I don’t see any chat rooms or online dating sites.”

“Maybe he hooked up the old-fashioned way, in a bar,” Brenda suggested.

“Could be.” He clicked a few more keys, then sighed. “No Facebook or Twitter accounts either.”

“How about his financials?”

“I was going there next,” Nick said. He found records of a bank account, but no savings account.

“Not much money,” Brenda commented as she read over his shoulder. “And no big check deposits or withdrawals.”

“Looks like he wasn’t paying for sex,” Nick said. “No paycheck from a security company, but there is one from Mountain Truckers. I want to talk to them.”

“What was the name of the security company?” Brenda asked.

“The wife didn’t know.”

“There’s no listing here. They must have paid him in cash.”

“Which could mean either that he lied and wasn’t working for a security company, or that the one he worked for wasn’t exactly legitimate.”

“What does his job have to do with his death?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing, but the more we learn about him, the easier it’ll be to piece together this mess.”

“His death could be random,” Brenda said. “He died simply because he hooked up with the wrong person.”

“It’s possible,” Nick said, although he didn’t look convinced. “But if the unsub chose this victim for a reason, we need to know what’s special about him.”

“Maybe his ex-wife discovered he liked it rough, agreed to play his game, then killed him.”

She saw the wheels turning in Nick’s head, but he didn’t answer.

“You talked to her,” Brenda said. “Do you think she killed him?”

“On paper, she’s the perfect suspect,” Nick said. “Wife scorned, husband a cheater. She finds out he likes rough sex, lures him to a motel. He’d certainly trust her, would pay for the motel. He’d let her tie him up.”

“But something’s not right about it,” Brenda said, sensing he wasn’t liking the wife for the crime.

“First of all, she’s a stay-at-home mom with a baby she dotes on.” Nick swung his gaze toward her. “Second. The unsub texted you, led you to the crime to find the body.”

“Maybe she wanted me to write a story about cheating men.”

Nick made a low sound in his throat. “That’s possible, except we can’t forget that the text indicated the present was for my father.”

“You think Logger was connected to your father somehow?”

Nick scraped a hand over his jaw. “Maybe. Or perhaps the killer is connected to him, and she just chose Logger because he was a convenient target.”

“Then the kill, her MO, has to be significant,” Brenda said. “But why repeatedly strangle the victim, then leave his body in a compromising sexual position for the Commander?”

It had felt so good to watch the man die.

He had deserved every painful second. They all did. They were all just like the Commander.

Every man she saw on the street, every man in the coffee shop, every man who’d ever touched her.

She thumbed through all the photographs she’d taken. Which one should be next?

She pasted them on her wall, like a scrapbook of memories.

Then she crossed Jim Logger’s name off the list with a smile. One down…

So many more to go.

N
ick checked Logger’s desk but found nothing but unpaid bills and a letter from his ex-wife’s lawyer, citing him for missed child support payments.

The crime team was still working, one of them lifting trace samples of bodily fluids from the sheets. If the unsub had had sex with Logger in his apartment, it might prove to be a lead.

Brenda started to open the closet door, but Nick stopped her. “You shouldn’t be here, Brenda, and you certainly can’t touch anything.”

Jake strode in, pulling on gloves, then glowered at Brenda. “I should have known you’d show up.”

“You going to throw me out like you did at Amelia’s?”

“I just want you to leave her in peace.”

“Brenda, you’d better go,” Nick said.

“But I can help,” Brenda argued. “Just give me some gloves, and I’ll search the closet.”

“No,” said Nick. “Wait outside.”

Brenda huffed, her pretty face crunching into a scowl. “You’ll tell me what you find?”

“I’ll tell you when we have the unsub. Now get out of here.”

“Fine—I’ll just conduct my own investigation.”

Nick caught her arm before she left the room, but regretted it when heat sizzled between them. “This is serious, Brenda. Stay out of it.”

“We’ve been through this, Nick. I’m not dropping it.”

“It’s not a game,” Nick growled.

“I know that, but I might be the link you need to communicate with her.”

Jake opened the closet door and started rooting around inside. “Just let us know if the killer contacts you again. Now, let us do our jobs.”

Nick released her arm. If this murder was related to his father, he didn’t want Brenda anywhere near it.

A hurt look simmered in her eyes, but she turned and walked into the living room. He followed, afraid she would bother the crime techs, but she checked her watch, then stepped outside.

“What do you have so far?” Jake asked.

“I need to check out the trucking company,” Nick replied. “Maybe it’ll lead to information about the security company. Logger’s wife said his drinking escalated after he took that job. But I didn’t find any pay stubs or deposits from a security company in his bank account.”

“Sounds suspicious,” Jake agreed.

“What happened earlier at Amelia’s?”

Jake rubbed his forehead. “Brenda was questioning Amelia before Sadie and I arrived. Sadie’s sister is vulnerable. She could say something to implicate herself without even realizing it.”

“I don’t think Brenda would use it against her,” Nick said.

Jake’s brows arched. “You’re defending Brenda?”

“No.” Was he? Nick chewed the inside of his cheek. “That’s not the point. Where was Amelia the night of the murder?”

Jake hesitated, making Nick’s nerves jump.

“She still didn’t say. But she claims she’s never been to the Slaughter Creek Motel.”

“Do you believe her?”

“I don’t know.” Jake exhaled. “But I don’t think she’s our killer.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “One of her alters might be. Just think about it. Viola picks up Logger in a bar, lures him back to the motel. Then things get out of hand, and Skid takes over and finishes the man.”

“It’s possible, I guess,” Jake said. “Although Amelia appears to be getting better, to be merging her alters. And this killer…she seems organized, as if she planned the murder. She’s certainly covering her tracks well. Amelia is too emotional and erratic to do that.”

He was right. The unsub had left no prints, no clothing behind, not even a condom. She’d stayed out of sight of the manager, and left without anyone knowing.

Plus she’d sent that cryptic text to Brenda.

“That’s true,” Nick said. “And we can’t forget the number she carved behind the vic’s ear. That suggests she’s going to kill again.”

Worry lined his brother’s face. “We have to find her before she does.”

Brenda checked her watch again as she left the apartment. Too bad Nick and his brother were throwing their weight around and wouldn’t let her tag along with them.

Although she
did
know the name of that trucking company. She didn’t need their permission to have a conversation with the owner.

Decision made, she jogged toward her car, but when she spotted a blond woman parking three doors down from Logger’s unit, she veered toward her.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” she said as she approached her. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

The blonde tucked her briefcase under her arm, then shoved her sunglasses onto the top of her head. Her eye shadow, which was a little too heavy, matched her startling green eyes. “If you’re selling something, I’m not interested.”

Brenda bit back a retort. Funny, since judging from the Mary Kay bag over the blonde’s shoulder, she was a salesgirl herself. The name tag on her pink jacket read “Susie.”

“I’m not selling anything. My name is Brenda Banks—”

Recognition dawned, and the blonde’s frown morphed into a smile. “Oh, right, I recognize you from the news. What’s going on?”

“Did you know Jim Logger, the man who lived in unit 112B?”